


Working On the Night Moves

by faequeentitania



Series: Sharing is Caring [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, Coda, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s11e04 Baby, Hand Jobs, M/M, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5294486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faequeentitania/pseuds/faequeentitania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been so long since he had been allowed to even <i>see</i> Sam like this, let alone touch or taste or smell. Dean stared with his mouth slightly open and cock throbbing with want at Sam, spread out and illuminated by the street light pouring through the back window.</p><p>Part of my <i>Sharing is Caring</i> series, but can be read independently. Coda to "Baby".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working On the Night Moves

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd by anyone but me, because I'm impatient and didn't want to wait any longer to post this.

“Does it... does it still turn you on?”

Dean was dozing; somewhere between awake and asleep but Sam’s quiet, softly-murmured question pulled him back toward awareness. They had said their goodnights at least ten minutes ago, and his tired-fuzzy brain wasn’t quite caught up yet.

He was quiet for the few moments it took him to process what Sam said, and he frowned with his eyes still closed, “What?”

“Does...” Sam began again, huffed out a nervous breath that set Dean on edge, “does it still turn you on? Me... being with... other people?”

The bottom of Dean’s stomach swooped out, and he felt his heart pick up tempo in his chest. He and Sam... well, it was fair to say that he’d fucked things up so royally the last couple years that he honestly thought that part of their relationship was gone for good.

He had been trying to come to terms with that, and he thought Sam’s hook-up with Piper was confirmation of what Dean already suspected; their relationship as family could heal and begin again, but their relationship as lovers...

“Dean?” Sam said nervously, and Dean swallowed hard.

“Of course it does,” he confessed quietly. It wasn’t a lie. There were so many wounds and failures and betrayals between them, but the thought of his baby brother fucking anyone still made his blood hot. He hadn't had to fake his happiness and pride at Sam’s prowess; even tinged with longing he had loved that Sam had gotten some much-needed physical intimacy. If it was all that he could have- teasing and congratulating Sam on his hookup, like the old days- then he would make himself be ok with that. If he imagined it in vivid detail behind closed eyes in the shower tomorrow, no harm to Sam would come of it.

“Yeah?” Sam asked breathlessly, and Dean trembled. He was so afraid of ruining their tenuous peace he didn't dare allow himself to hope.

“Yeah,” he whispered. Silence. His heart continued to race.

“Ask me,” Sam finally whispered into the darkness of the car, and Dean’s heart thudded inside his chest.

“You sure?” he asked instead. He needed to know that Sam meant it, that his brother wanted this part of them back as much as Dean did.

“Ask me.”

Dean’s throat felt thick as he swallowed, licked his dry lips and took a breath.

“How’d you fuck her, Sammy?” Dean murmured heatedly, “Tell me how good you made her feel.”

Dean heard the dry click of Sam’s throat, his breathy exhale before he started talking, “Started at the diner. We flirted for ages, and she got tired of waiting for me to make a move so she pulled me into the bathroom.”

Dean gave a quiet chortle. His brother was pushy as fuck in bed, but he was notoriously bashful about trying to get anyone there.

“She blew me right there, against the sinks. It was terrifying and hot as fuck, watching her suck my dick when anyone could walk right in and find us.”

Dean bit his lip, imagining it behind his eyes. He felt his cock start to fill at the mental image of Sam, head titled back in pleasure and fingers clutching the edge of the sink in a white-knuckle grip.

“I told her to stop or I was gonna come, but she didn’t. Just kept swallowing around me until I blew my load, right down her throat. She didn’t even hesitate, just swallowed until I had nothing left.”

“Fuck,” Dean couldn’t help but pant out, and he heard a quiet, breathy exhale of a laugh from Sam.

“Exactly,” his brother affirmed, “She zipped me up and told me I had forty-five minutes to get it up again before she was done her shift.”

Dean grinned at that.

“Did you?” he murmured with a slow smirk.

Sam chuffed, but Dean could hear the smile in his voice, “Of course I did. I’m not old like you.”

Dean raised his hand over the backrest and flipped Sam off. His brother chuckled, and the warmth in it made Dean feel content in a way he hadn’t been in a very long time.

“She could barely wait,” Sam continued in a murmur, “I could see it. It made me so fucking hot for her, knowing how much she wanted me. Don't think I even needed those forty-five minutes.”

Dean licked his lips, imagined them in his mind’s eye; he knew every nuance of Sam’s hungry, lustful look, and could image Piper’s all too easily. He wished longingly that he could have been there to witness it all for himself; watch the two of them dance sexy, tantalizing circles around each other.

“Barely made it to the car. You,” Sam cut himself off with a chortle, “The image of you bitching me out over the leather is the only thing that made me patient enough to put the blanket down.”

Dean chuckled, lovingly reaching up and patting the top of the leather seat, “Damn right.”

Sam puffed out a quiet breath, and his next words came out husky and soft, “As soon as the door closed she was pulling her panties down; didn't even bother getting undressed more than that at first, so I bunched up her skirt and held her down so I could get my mouth on her. Fuck, she came so fast, just from me licking her. Didn't even need to use my fingers, Dean, she was fucking soaked for me already.”

Dean moaned throatily, his jeans so uncomfortably tight. Clumsily he pawed at the fastenings, getting the button and zipper down as quickly as he dared and immediately shoving his hand inside.

He groaned in relief as he got his fingers around his aching cock, squeezing and working the shaft tightly as Sam's words painted vivid pornography in his head.

“Fuck, it was all so good,” he could hear Sam say, could hear the sound of Sam's own jeans being wrestled out of the way and Dean licked his lips.

“Couldn't stop eating her out, Dean,” Sam panted, and Dean’s spine sizzled at the quiet, wet sound of Sam spreading precome down his shaft, groaning so beautifully, “She just kept making these sounds, god. Straight out of fucking porn, you would have fucking loved it.”

Dean’s hips bucked and his grip tightened on his dick, another groan ripped out of his throat.

“Pulled that stupid dress off of her. You saw her tits, right? Fucking beautiful.”

Dean had seen, and his memory of her smiling wickedly at him from the back seat, completely without shame or modesty simultaneously made pride for Sam bubble though his chest and his hand slicker with precome.

“Loved sucking her tits while I fucked her,” this, said on a moan with the thick sounds of Sam’s hand furiously stroking his cock, and Dean wasn't sure how much longer he could do this.

It had been literal years since he had had Sam like this. Years since he had been allowed to be privy to this part of Sam; the part his brother had always kept the most private. Dean flew his sexuality like a flag, had done since he was a teenager. Sam was the exact opposite, barely letting on that he had a sex drive, even when Dean knew for a fact that it roared just a hot as Dean’s. Being allowed back into this pocket of Sam’s life was doing unexpectedly twisty things to his heart, and he didn't know how much longer he could stand not touching Sam. Not pulling those hot, heavy sounds of pleasure from Sam’s mouth for himself.

“Loved how her pussy felt, Dean,” Sam continued, heedless of the fierce desire waging a war in Dean’s chest, “Know what she said when I got my dick out?”

“What?” Dean panted, squeezing the tip of his cock in a dirty rub that made his back arch.

“Said she’d been fantasizing about it since she sucked me off. Said she couldn't wait to get it inside her and feel how thick it was, how much it would fill her up.”

Dean groaned, knowing exactly how it felt to be stuffed full of Sam’s cock, deep and unforgivingly good.

“Know you showed her, Sammy,” he managed to husk out, eliciting a breathless sound from the backseat.

“She came just from me pounding her. Didn't even get a chance to touch her clit, just got off from me fucking her hard and sucking her nipples,” Sam panted with wonder, “Never had a woman who could do that before.”

Dean had. It was rare, but they existed, and they were fucking god sends in his book. The phantom sensation of a pussy tightening and milking his cock as he imagined it made him arch and tense, and he panickingly squeezed the tip of his cock in a painful pinch as orgasm threatened to overtake him.

“F-fuck, Sammy. Sammy,” he panted deliriously, wanting so bad to be given permission to do more than listen, with Baby’s leather seat separating him from Sam’s hot, perfect skin.

“Get back here,” Sam commanded with a growl, and Dean immediately sat up, twisting upright in his seat and opening the door. Sam was already pulling on the handle of the back seat, swinging it open for him hurriedly.

Dean groaned at the sight before him, Sam’s pants undone and shoved down his hips, his brother panting and sweating slightly. Urgently he climbed through the door and closed it behind him, their legs tangled together.

It had been so long since he had been allowed to even _see_ Sam like this, let alone touch or taste or smell. Dean stared with his mouth slightly open and cock throbbing with want at Sam, spread out and illuminated by the street light pouring through the back window.

“Dean?” Sam whispered, questioning hesitation putting a crease between his brows and Dean immediately reached out for him, shuffling forward and rearranging them until he was straddling Sam’s hips and cradling Sam’s face in his hands.

“I’m here, Sammy,” he whispered, feeling Sam’s hands go to his hips as he pressed forward to finally kiss him.

Sam whimpered, pressing up into it so intensely Dean felt like his insides were melting into pathetic, adoring goo for the man under him.

“I love you,” he breathed against Sam’s mouth, “I love you so much, Sammy.”

“Dean,” Sam said again, a watery edge to his voice that Dean silenced with his lips and his hands, touching his brother everywhere he could; relearning the body he treasured and worked so hard to keep safe.

Sam was touching him too, running his hands over Dean’s chest and down his thighs, occasionally squeezing like he was begging Dean to stay there.

“Not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he soothed softly, following the words with a flick of his tongue that had Sam moaning, “Never again.”

“Never,” Sam echoed quietly, pressing his mouth firmly against Dean’s and Dean moaned when Sam’s hand suddenly closed around his cock, pulling tight, quick strokes that all but melted Dean’s bones.

Hurriedly he reached down to get his hand on Sam, his fingers wrapping around the heavy weight of it and rubbing his palm furiously against the head; earning him a sharp gasp and hard buck from his brother.

He smirked against Sam’s mouth, couldn't help the thrill of victory that came with knowing he still knew exactly what made Sam tick, knew exactly what was going to melt Sam into putty in his hands.

“Fuck, I'm gonna come,” Sam whined in warning; as if the steady, wet leak of precome slicking Dean’s hand wasn't enough. Sam’s grip quickened on Dean, trying to push him there too, and if Dean had been standing at that moment his knees would have surely failed him.

Suddenly he flashed back to their first time, eerily similar to this moment. So much pain and longing that had kept them apart for so long finally torn down and laid out, threatening to overwhelm Dean and ruthlessly drag him under its enormity.

He remembered Sam, torn up inside and hurting so bad it felt like a wound to Dean too. Remembered the hot, desperate feel of Sam pressing down on top of him, rubbing off on each other and the cathartic feel of finally getting all that raw, undefinable need spilled out in hot white streaks that coated Dean's belly.

Sam arching and crying out with a tamped down sound brought him back to the here and now, of this Sam, ten years older but no less beautiful, and Dean’s own orgasm ripped down his spine at the sight of his brother coming undone.

They both worked each other through it, and Dean could almost feel the competitive edge to how long they both tried to draw this out; wringing every last bit of pleasure they could from each other before it became too much.

“Fuck, stop,” Sam was the first to fold, letting go of Dean to pull his brother’s hand off his over-sensitive cock, trembling like a leaf. Something primal and possessive flashed through Dean’s blissed out brain, and he couldn't stop the flash of smug pride at seeing his huge, strong brother reduced to a shivery, come-covered mess.

Carelessly he wiped his sticky hand on Sam’s shirt, his brother squawking with indignation.

“It's wrecked anyway, quit bitching,” Dean chuffed, smiling at Sam in a way he knew would make Sam forgive him.

It worked, and Sam give a small, begrudging smirk of his own in return even as he shook his head.

“Jerk,” Sam husked, still breathless and beautiful, and Dean immediately smiled wider.

“Bitch,” he replied, and it was stupid, so unbelievably stupid how much those dumb, juvenile insults made him feel, for the first time in a long time, like they were a team again.

That, and the soft way Sam was looking at him, like he knew exactly what Dean was thinking and completely agreed.

It was quiet ritual after that, Dean helping Sam out of his ruined shirt, sitting up and cleaning up the best they could, rearranging their clothes to be decent and presentable, should a cop knock on their window and tell them to move along.

The back of Sam’s fingers against his cheek drew his eyes away from the fastenings of his jeans, fingers continuing to button and zip even as his focus shifted to his brother.

“I know it's a tight fit,” Sam said, and Dean could see the pink tinge to his cheeks as he spoke, clearly embarrassed at what he was about to ask, “but... would you stay back here with me? I'll move onto the floor, if you don't want to try to squeeze onto the seat-”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean interjected, hooking his arm around the back of Sam’s neck and reeling him in for a kiss, “Told you, I'm not going anywhere.”

Sam hummed softly, pressing his lips to Dean’s again and stroking a gentle hand down his chest in a way that made Dean’s insides go gooey.

He made a disappointed sound as Sam drew back, and Sam smiled as he cupped Dean’s face, mindful of the bruise still coloring Dean’s cheekbone.

“Let's get some sleep,” Sam said, and Dean nodded, following Sam down onto the body-warmed leather. It was a tight fit, and they would both undoubtedly wake up sweaty and overheated in the morning, but Dean had no problem with that. Feeling Sam pressed against him, warm and strong and still everything Dean loved and wanted most in this world, well; it was more than worth it.

“I... I kind of wanted you to find us.”

Sam’s words pushed through the sleepy, post-sex haze his brain was currently sinking into, and he grunted a questioning sound.

“Me and Piper. I... I kept hoping you would come out and see us together. I wanted...” Sam swallowed thickly and Dean tightened his arms around him comfortingly, urging him on, “I guess I wanted to see if it still got to you. Still made you hot for me. See if you still wanted me.”

Wordlessly Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s, gentle and loving and desperately in love.

“Pretty sure there’s nothing in the universe that can stop me from wanting you,” Dean said quietly, rubbing his lips against Sam’s before pressing another kiss to them, “Nothing’s ever made me stop wanting you. Nothing’s ever made me stop loving you.”

That part wasn't entirely true, and the sickening memory of his cold, hateful nature as a demon made his stomach twist with nausea and revulsion. Another him, another life, one so far removed from the here and now it might as well have been someone else. Those were the words Sam himself had given him recently, when he had caught Dean rubbing at the spot on his arm where The Mark had once sat, red and angry and poisonous; the memory of it etching distraught lines in his face he didn't think would ever go away.

“Me too,” Sam's words cut through the memory, “Everything that's happened to us and I still...”

Sam’s arms tightened around him, and his brother took a shuddering breath, “I still love you so much it hurts. Still love you so much my fucking world collapses without you. Please tell me you know that. You're the only thing-”

Dean could hear the break in Sam’s voice, and couldn't stand the answering stab of pain in his chest at how much they had hurt each other through the years.

He kissed Sam to stop the flow of words, stroked his hair back from his face gently and shushed him.

“I know, Sammy,” he murmured, still stroking Sam’s soft hair, “I know. It's the same for me, you know that, right? Can't live without you, sweetheart.”

Sam trembled, and Dean continued to stroke his hair soothingly, as much to comfort himself as to comfort Sam, and eventually they both calmed down enough that Dean began to feel tired again, limbs heavy with the need to sleep.

“Love you, Dean.” Sam whispered, his breath ghosting over Dean’s face softly.

“Love you too, Sammy,” Dean answered just as quietly, “Go to sleep.”

He felt Sam’s minute nod, and despite the cramped and overheated quarters, Dean fell into a better sleep than he’d had in a very long time.


End file.
